The Alternative
by shhjustcome
Summary: When you leave Castiel alone with a computer, it can have unintended consequences. But that doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing.    Warnings/kinks: Wingporn, PWP, mild spoilers for season 6, failed attempts at humour.


A/n: English is not my first language so there may be stupid errors on that side of things. It's been beta-ed, but sometimes people miss things. Kind-of based on a prompt a friend gave me ("Castiel discovers Destiel fanfiction.") I am COMPLETELY aware that Chuck stopped publishing the Supernatural novels when Dean went to hell, so that technically there can be no such thing as Destiel shippers in that 'verse, but bear with me okay. Or pretend they somehow published the rest after he ~disappeared~ or something. A little artistic freedom should be permitted, right?

When Dean walked into their motel room in a small town with a demon problem somewhere in the south of Wisconsin, he was surprised to see Cas was sitting at the little desk in the corner, staring intently at the monitor of Sam's laptop.

"What the hell are you doing, Cas?" he asked, because it was the only thing he could think of. The sight of Cas behind the laptop was a first. Cas did not look up but he vaguely waved his hand around in answer. Dean assumed that it meant he wanted him to come look at something so he dropped the cans of beer he'd just gotten on one of the beds and leaned over Cas' shoulder to see what was going on. Cas was looking at an unfamiliar website. It rather looked like a personal blog, with pictures and text posts. Dean didn't quite see what was so important about it.

"We are on this person's website," Cas said, answering the question without giving Dean the chance to ask it first. He pointed at one of the text posts. Dean looked closer, a little sceptical. 'Reasons why I ship Destiel,' it said. And it consisted of a very long list.

"Destiel, seriously?" he huffed.

"Destiel is a composite of 'Dean' and 'Castiel'," Cas explained.

"I understand that, smartass," Dean said, a little snarkier than he'd intended. "Those goddamn fans, they won't stop," he continued, more to the world in general. Cas just looked up at him, his head slightly cocked to the left. "What do you mean?" he asked. With a sigh, Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and opened a can of beer. "Fans of the stories," he started. "Some of them have... a hyperactive fantasy. They like to think that some characters are in a relationship, a 'ship,' with other characters. Hey! Don't look at me, Sam found out all this, he's the computer guy!" Cas didn't say anything. Dean took a large sip of beer and swallowed hard before continuing. "And well, apparently some 'ship' Sam and me. In a sexual way." Cas still didn't react. "And now they're also 'shipping' you and me. It's ridiculous," he concluded. Carefully he glanced over at Cas to gauge his reaction to this revelation, but Cas was just staring blankly into outer space, or whatever. It was like talking to a wall, sometimes. He decided it would be more rewarding to focus on his beer instead.

"So then fanfiction is what fans write about us?" The angel suddenly asked out of nowhere. Dean looked up from his beer. "What?" he exclaimed. "You've been reading _fanfiction_?" and after a pause, "about _us_?"

"Well, they were writing about you and me, so I had to know what they were writing. I did not read everything but I'm pretty sure it's all completely fictitious." Dean raised an eyebrow as Cas turned back to the laptop. "Take for example this..." Before Dean had realised what was going to happen, Castiel started reading from the screen. "Dean looked into his angel's deep blue eyes and sighed, longingly, his tongue unintentionally wetting his lips..." With a jump and a growl, Dean reached the laptop and snagged it from under Cas' hands. A tangle of cables fell to the floor and Cas leaned back, looking a little shocked. "You. Don't. Read. Fanfiction. About. Me." was Dean's gnarled explanation for his behaviour. He quickly closed the laptop and put it back in Sam's bag. He straightened his shirt with his palms when he stood up and looked a little defiantly at Cas. "So what did you say the reason for your sudden appearance was? I assume it had nothing to do with reading amateur porn."

The rest of the evening they spent talking about the job they were working for which Sam had apparently decided to consult Cas without telling Dean. It was all relaxed enough but Dean still felt a little off his game. Occasionally he found he was staring at Castiel's eyes, wondering why he'd never before noticed how blue they were. Or he caught himself unintentionally licking his lips for no particular reason. He had no idea why that one crappy line from that one crappy fanfiction got to him the way it did, but he was glad when Cas left, as suddenly as he had appeared, and it was just Sammy and him again.

That night, Dean had difficulty sleeping. It wasn't that he couldn't fall asleep, he was tired and just a little bit drunk so that was no problem at all. But he kept waking up again, and then he would lay awake for a while, thinking about things, staring at the ceiling and listening to Sam's breathing until he could go back to sleep, only to wake up again half an hour later. The idea that there were people who apparently believed that he and Cas would make a good couple kept him busy. From what he knew of their fans he gathered that they were insane enough to write fanfiction about anyone with anyone. They wrote about him and Sam, for god's sake, and they were _brothers_. But Cas... Cas was about the least sexual creature he knew. He doubted if he even knew what his dick was for. Also, he was male, as far as angels had a sex, and his vessel most definitely was male. And Dean, Dean was a ladies' man. Even if, at the moment, Sam seemed to be the one who got all the fun times. Dean scowled at the darkness. At least the girls he slept with didn't die at the frankly alarming rate with which Sammy's conquests seemed to drop.

When he woke again, it was from a disturbing dream. Dean tried to remember what had happened but it was quickly sinking away. The only clues he had were a mental image of Cas that didn't fade as quickly as the other images from the dream, and a boner. He felt a little uncomfortable about what these clues seemed to imply. He briefly considered taking a cold shower but it was still dark outside and a quick look at the alarm clock on his bedside table told him it was definitely not time to get up yet. He sunk back into the pillows with a sigh. It just wasn't his day. Or night, whatever. When he had confirmed that Sam was really asleep, he quickly dealt with his erection, trying to keep his mind as blank as possible. It didn't really work, though, and he came with the image of Cas being led away by a prostitute named Chastity, or Prudence, or whatever it was. The girl had a nice ass, and he told himself that that was what tipped him over the edge, but he wasn't sure if he believed himself. He cleaned himself up with one of the sheets and tossed it off the bed, a little guiltily. They would be leaving in the morning, but he didn't like the idea of leaving his mess to be cleaned up by someone else. Even if they were paid to do it. He wrapped himself in his blanket and shifted to the other side of the bed. He closed his eyes, desperately willing himself to go back to sleep again, but after a few minutes he opened them again, exasperated. It seemed like he'd had all the sleep he was going to get. When his eyes had readjusted to the darkness of the room, he realised that Sam's laptop was lying within reach, on the table between their beds. The standby light was blinking in the dark. Without considering where, exactly, his idea ranked on the scale from unwise to completely fucked in the nugget, Dean grabbed the laptop and opened the internet history.

The reason Dean kept reading the fanfiction written about him and Cas (when Sam was out, and carefully deleting the internet history every time he was done,) was because it fascinated him, more than anything. The writing was mostly horrible, and he couldn't help but think how hopelessly out of character most of the stories were, even considering how Chuck had already butchered their lives. And yet it fascinated him. The things that people (girls, mostly) read into the stories were astonishing. Only occasionally he would find a story that was actually well written and sort-of hot. However, the more he read, the more the stories turned him on, which worried him less than it maybe should. In fact, he began to find it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face around Castiel, especially when he'd just read about him fucking Cas in the backseat of the Impala, or in a dodgy motel room, or... anywhere really. Those fans really did have a very lively imagination. Maybe it was a good thing anyway that Cas wasn't around as much as he used to be, what with the war going on upstairs.

There was one "genre" of fanfiction that interested him more than the others. He quickly discovered it was called "wingporn," because these stories gave an important (mostly instrumental) role to Castiel's wings. Sometimes they were fluffy and white, sometimes they remained invisible, but they always gave intense sexual pleasure to either Cas, or to himself. He knew that it was fantasy and that in reality, if he ever got to touch Cas' wings he'd probably be burned alive or something (if he could even touch them) but the idea nevertheless took hold in his brain. He'd seen the shadow of Castiel's wings twice now and he couldn't deny they were beautiful. They were the closest he'd ever come (and would ever be able to come, if he valued his eyes) to seeing the angel's true form. And Castiel, when he came to earth was stuck in Jimmy's body, which considering his real size must be a painful prison. How would it feel for him if someone touched his wings, a part of his true body (or whatever angels had.) Dean was rather captivated by this thought, and he'd decided that he was going to ask Cas about it sometime, in a relaxed, explicitly non-sexual way. And when Sam was not around, just to be sure.

It took three jobs and hours upon hours in the Impala before Dean finally got his chance. They were at Bobby's and Sam had taken Bobby to shop for supplies. They'd take at least a day because the supplies they needed weren't available in a normal supermarket. Dean had slightly hurt his ankle and he'd considered it as enough of an excuse to not have to sit in a car with the two of them chatting about magical herbs and sacred phalanges. Dean was just stretching out on the couch, getting ready for his midday nap when Cas appeared in the room, looking slightly more bewildered than usual. Dean shot up. "Cas! What the...?"

"Dean, I need to stay here for a few hours," Cas said simply while he sat down on the nearest chair.

"Cas, are you hiding from someone? Because if you are, this may not be the smartest place..." Dean started, but Castiel raised his hand, signalling him to be silent.

"I am not in hiding. It is simply imperative that I not be in Heaven for a short time, and I figured that this would be a good place to stay. I was actually hoping to talk to Bobby..." Cas looked around him, "but I gather he is not here."

Dean shook his head. "Bobby and Sam are out shopping. You'll have to make do with me until they come back."

Cas simply nodded and continued to do his 'sitting silently in a corner, staring at nothing in particular'-thing. Dean observed him for a while, equally silent. He wondered if this was the right time to start a casual chat about wings. Cas looked a little ruffled and very tired. Maybe he should just let him be...

"Dean, why do you want to know about wings?" Cas asked, completely out of the blue. Dean was taken aback. "Cas... what? Are you plucking through my mind again?"

"You're simply thinking too loud, Dean. I can't help but pick it up."

Dean looked hurt. He didn't like the idea that he was 'thinking too loud'. He liked to think of himself as a stealthy fighter plane, not an old radio. Cas was simply looking at him, his expression completely blank.

"Uhh..." Dean started. He had been going over how he'd ask about the wings in his mind, but now that he actually had the opportunity, he couldn't really find a way to do it without sounding like a pervy creeper. "Uhh..." he tried again, "Cas, can someone actually touch your wings?"

Castiel appeared to think about this for a bit. "Why?" he asked eventually. "Do you desire to touch my wings?"

Dean blushed a little. The word 'desire' didn't sit well with him. "Not particularly..." he said, carefully avoiding Cas' gaze, silently thanking the universe that Cas was hopelessly inept at reading people. "I was... I was just thinking about it."

"I don't think you can," Castiel answered. "What you have seen are mere imprints of my wings, they cannot exist in your reality, just like my true form cannot really exist here. But no one has ever asked me before so I am not sure."

Dean thought about that for a minute. "But I've heard your true voice, haven't I?" he asked eventually. "And Lucifer was on Earth before he found his vessel, you said so yourself. Doesn't that mean that your wings can exist here too, in some form or other?"

"Like I said, Dean, I don't know," Cas answered. "As far as I know no human has ever asked an angel if they could touch their wings."

Dean was actually a little disappointed. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it was definitely not 'I don't know.' They were both silent for some time. Then a thought struck Dean. "Cas, can you at least _show_ me your wings?"

"Dean, I don't know if..." Castiel started, but Dean interrupted him. "Oh, come on Cas! I just want to _see _them. It's not like anyone else is here, and you've shown them to me before so there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"That's not it," Cas said tersely. "It takes effort to summon my wings and it may create some turbulence. This room is very small, and I do not wish to break anything." He paused. "On top of that, I'm tired and I wish to rest."

"Oh, please Cas!" Dean couldn't believe he was actually pouting. "I won't tell anyone if you break anything and you can get plenty of rest after you pop out your wings. I promise I'll leave you alone. Just... humour me okay. I'm alone here in a house without cable TV and I'm bored."

Castiel still looked unsure, but he gave Dean a curt nod and got up from the chair he had been sitting in. He closed his eyes in concentration, and a second later the shadow of wings spread out across the wall behind him. Dean stared at them in awe. They were huge, the tips on either side touching the corners of the room, and they weren't even fully stretched out. Castiel opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked.

"Just a second..." Dean said as he too got up and walked slowly across the room to the wall. He carefully stretched out one arm and touched the black shadow with his finger tips, tracing its outlines on the wallpaper. Behind him, he heard Cas draw in a hissing breath. He smiled, and flattened his hand on the wall, stroking the shadow of Cas' wing. Suddenly the wing shifted as Cas moved around, now facing Dean. Dean looked at him, and his smile broadened when he saw the angel's confused expression.

"What are you doing?" Castiel asked.

"Well," Dean started, "I thought that what I'd seen of your wings were just shadows. Reflections, whatever. But then you called them 'imprints' and that changed matters a little. There were basically three options. One, it was an unlucky choice of words, which I think with you is highly unlikely. Two, whatever has left the imprint has disappeared again, or at least is no longer in direct contact with the imprint, like a footprint left in the sand. Or three..." and he brushed his fingers alongside the edge of the dark shadow on the wall, "whatever is leaving the imprint is still in direct contact with the print. Like when you step in the sand, the print is already created. Do you follow me?" he grinned at Castiel, who was still staring at him. "I admit, it was a long shot." He turned back to the wall and started touching Castiel's wing again. "A long shot indeed, but it was worth it. D'you think I really am the first person to touch an angel's wings?"

Castiel didn't respond. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw that he was standing quite still, but leaning slightly towards the wall, like he was leaning into Dean's softly stroking hand. It vaguely reminded Dean of when you pet a kitten. Not that he was a person who regularly petted kittens, but still. He found he really enjoyed the sight. _Really_ enjoyed it. He decided to up the ante a bit and started following the wing in the direction of where it appeared from Castiel's shadow, continuously stroking Cas' wing. When he reached the bit where the wing narrowed down and disappeared into Cas' own shadow, a short whimper escaped from Castiel's lips and on an impulse, Dean pressed his mouth against the wall. Behind him, there was another sharp intake of air. He traced the outline of the wing with his tongue, and Castiel actually moaned. It wasn't a particularly sexual moan, more like the kind that might slip out when someone scratches an itch on your back which you can't reach yourself, but it did things to the pit of Dean's stomach that he didn't really want to stop and think about. He was scratching an itch on Castiel's back, and he had fun doing it. That was all there was to it. He pressed a few open-mouthed kisses against the shaft of the wing, and went back to stroking it with his hand, softly ruffling, what he assumed were, the feathers. He followed the wing all the way to the tip and then went back again, until he'd come back to the point where the wings disappeared. Then he reached over with his other hand, and touched Cas' back, at the spot where he guessed the wings actually appeared from his back. Castiel sighed contentedly and leaned into Dean's touch. Now he had to choose between going back to the wings or giving Cas the backrub he'd already practically initiated. If he did that, however, he would definitely cross some line. On top of that, he wasn't quite sure how in touch with his vessel Castiel actually was. Would he actually feel it? All in all, the wings seemed the safer option, but something in the way Cas was leaning against Dean's hand, eyes closed and his arms dangling relaxed by his sides gave Dean the impression that maybe a backrub was long overdue. He let go of the wall and placed his other hand over the spot where the other wing would spring from Cas' back. The wings on the wall quivered briefly. Dean pulled Cas a little closer and leaned over his shoulder, so he could whisper in his ear. "Just relax," he said. "I'll give you a bit of a backrub. It's nice and I think you need one, judging by the tension in your shoulders." Castiel simply lowered his head in acquiescence. Dean proceeded to massage Cas' shoulders, being careful to always stay in contact with the spots on his shoulder blades where the wings started. He was pleased to notice that Cas seemed to really enjoy it, although the noises that occasionally escaped his lips did nothing to lessen his own arousal.

In retrospect, Dean wasn't really sure when the switch in his brain snapped, but it did, at some point, and Dean just went on autopilot, his mind detachedly observing him pressing a gentle kiss against Cas' neck, and another one, up to his hairline, while planning the next steps he'd take. He'd done this a million times before, but never with a supposedly asexual, and very male, angel. He barely had time to register, half-surprised, that his mind seemed to see this as a challenge, rather than an impediment, before his hands were on Castiel's hips, pulling him in closer. Cas just went along with him, as close to sleepy as an angel could get. Dean vaguely wondered if he thought that this was all part of a 'backrub'. He leaned over Cas' shoulder again and muttered, "if you want me to stop now, you just have to say so you know..." Castiel opened one eye and looked at Dean. Dean decided to ignore how close his mouth was to Cas' jaw line, and added "otherwise I can't guarantee where this will take... us."

Castiel turned his head and now looked Dean straight in the eyes. "I don't... Oh."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle as he saw understanding dawn suddenly on Castiel's face. "Yeah," he said, almost apologetically.

"Oh." Cas said.

Dean took a step back, raising his hands in the air. Castiel just looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Look Cas, if you want I can just leave you now so you can get some rest." Cas was still standing perfectly still, his head slightly cocked to the side. "I just kinda need to, eh, go now," Dean continued, vaguely gesturing towards his crotch. When Cas still didn't respond he started walking towards the door. He already had his hand on the handle when Castiel softly said his name. He paused, but didn't turn around. He felt quite comfortable _not_ looking at Castiel for now.

"Dean," Cas said again. Dean still couldn't look up. When he didn't respond, Castiel just continued. "Dean... I do not feel like... resting anymore." Now Dean couldn't help but look up at Cas, surprised. The angel still stood in the middle of the room, looking tired and small in his slightly-too-big trenchcoat. But he was now looking at Dean with a new certainty in his eyes, and Dean took a hesitant step towards him.

"I gather that you desire me sexually, Dean," Castiel continued. Dean winced at the clinical way in which he put it but nevertheless nodded in agreement. "And I have to admit that I enjoyed your... 'backrub' very much," Cas went on. "And I am quite curious to see where this will take... us."

Dean blinked, amazed. But he wasn't going to think about it now, and with a few steps he was with Castiel, put his hands on his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean started slowly, not sure how fast Cas would catch up, but as it turned out, Cas was a fast learner, and the kiss quickly deepened, slowly turning into a battle for dominance. Dean allowed himself to rest his hands on the small of Castiel's back, drawing their bodies closer together. He then shifted his attention from Castiel's mouth to his jaw, following it with his mouth and tongue, until he had reached the soft spot behind his ear. He briefly paused to inhale the scent of his hair (clean, but with a faint tinge of sweat and something he couldn't quite place), before he changed direction and started kissing down his neck. A satisfied groan when he reached the place where neck meets shoulder told him he'd hit the right spot. He nuzzled the crease of his clavicle and gently bit down on the soft skin. Castiel gasped in surprise and his hands gripped Dean's shoulders tightly, his one hand covering the spot on his left shoulder where he'd gripped him tight once before. The force with which Cas grasped Dean also dragged their lower bodies closer together and the friction set nerve endings on fire which Dean didn't even know he had. He moaned involuntarily. All his instincts where telling him to drag Cas down on the floor and fuck him, but he also saw that that wouldn't be the smartest course of action. So instead he opted for pushing Cas against the wall, grinding their bodies together while kissing him. Castiel's wings were still extended, and when Dean placed his one hand against the wall for balance and leverage, he touched the dark shape on the wall and it sent a series of shivers through Cas' body. Dean grinned against Cas' lips and dragged his tongue tantalizingly slow from the corner of his mouth, across his cheekbones to his ear, and then, leaning with his whole body against Castiel, stretched to reach the shadow on the wall. Cas writhed underneath him as he worked the small bit of wing which he could reach with his mouth. They were pushed so close together that he could feel every shifting muscle through the fabric that separated their bodies, and he could feel Cas' erection press against his own and suddenly even the few layers of clothes seemed way too many. He quickly released Castiel to pull his own shirt over his head, and then began to unbutton Cas' white shirt. When he realised what Dean was trying to do, Cas let go of his shoulders and tried to shake off his coat. There was a brief flurry of clothes and arms and then Dean's hands were on Cas' naked chest, and Cas' was holding on to his back and he felt his breath against his bare skin and the heat between them was almost unbearable. A drop of sweat had formed in the nape of Castiel's neck, and Dean followed it with his tongue, down his neck and to his collarbone. And then he went on, nipping at Cas' taut nipples, and pressing sloppy wet kisses on his stomach, while his hands steadied him. When he had reached the first traces of hair on Castiel's lower abdomen, he paused for a second. The angel had gone totally silent in instinctual anticipation. Hesitating, Dean looked up at his face. Cas had his head thrown back, leaning against the wall and his hair was ruffled, his eyes closed, but there was a tension to his expression and his cheeks were flushed a rosy pink. He looked beautiful. It was all the encouragement Dean needed at this point and he quickly undid Castiel's fly and pulled down his pants and underpants in one determined movement. Now that he was faced with Castiel's erection he hesitated again. He had been at the receiving end of many blowjobs, but he'd never actually given one. It was a daunting prospect. Castiel's hands were on his head, desperately trying to hold on, and his thighs were quivering, goosebumps forming in reaction to the sudden rush of cold air. Dean closed his eyes and sent a quick apology to the heavens, just in case someone was paying attention. Then he carefully placed a kiss on the tip of Castiel's cock. Castiel involuntarily thrust his hips upward in reaction. With that, Dean threw all caution in the wind and slowly took his whole cock in his mouth, his tongue first circling the tip and then dragging alongside the underside of the shaft. Cas was slick with precome and it tasted weird, alien, but not unpleasant. When he had taken Cas' erection in almost entirely, he took a second to adjust and suppress the reflex to gag, and then started moving. He let Castiel's cock almost slip out of his mouth again, licking the head and briefly pressing his tongue against the slit, before he went back down the shaft. Castiel was weakly thrusting his hips, urging him to go deeper and Dean obliged as much as he could. Before long, they had established a rhythm. There was however another problem as his own dick was pressed painfully against the tight fabric of his jeans. He let go of Castiel's hips with one hand and reached down to undo his zipper. With a sigh of relief he dragged down his pants. He briefly withdrew to spit in his palm, and started jacking off in the same tempo as he was working Cas. Gradually, he noticed, Cas' thrusts were becoming more erratic, and the muscles on his hips were clenching. Dean increased his pace, and Castiel came with a surprised exclamation of his name. There was a whirl of air as his wings trembled and stretched across the whole side of the room. Dean groaned and swallowed.

When Castiel had emptied himself he pulled Dean up by his shoulders and kissed him. It was a filthy, sloppy and incredibly sexy kiss. Dean let go of his own dick to hold Cas close and kissed him as hard and as deep as he could. He didn't even notice that Cas had released his hold on his right shoulder until he felt his hand on his erection, and he started stroking him, cautious at first but increasingly determined. Dean looked at Cas, and Cas looked right back at him, a new vigour in his expression.

"I was under the impression," he said surprisingly softly, "that these things are supposed to be reciprocal."

Dean smiled and put his forehead against Castiel's, bracing himself for the climax he knew was imminent. When he came it was more explosive than he'd experienced in a long time. He trembled and shook, smearing his come across both their stomachs. His mouth formed incoherent sounds all of its own accord, and afterwards Dean wasn't quite sure what he'd shouted, but he had the vague feeling that a lot of it was the same one syllable over and over again. Castiel held him close with both arms throughout. Eventually, Dean relaxed, completely spent and exhausted, his forehead still resting against Cas', their noses touching. It struck Dean how utterly comfortable and at peace he felt, despite the fact that he was standing naked in Bobby's living room, his jeans around his ankles, hugging the angel with who he'd just had sex. It certainly was a very new sensation. Cas seemed perfectly okay with this new development too, and for a while they just stood there. Then Dean felt Castiel shift under him and he opened his eyes. Cas' face was extremely close to his, and he saw the different shades of blue in his irises, and the bags under his eyes, and he saw the muscles shift in his jaw. "What's up?" he asked.

"I wish to put my clothes back on," Cas said simply.

"Oh, alright," Dean hurriedly took a step back. "We also need to get ourselves a little cleaned up," he added after surveying the stains of drying come on their stomachs. He quickly pulled his trousers up, and helped Cas with his shirt buttons. When they were done, Castiel just stood there, fumbling with his shirt. Dean smiled, and kissed him. It felt cheesy and romantic but he couldn't stop himself, and he didn't really want to.

"So," he said when he let go again. "Did you enjoy it?"

Castiel nodded. "It was a pleasurable experience..." he hesitated. "Are we in a relationship now? I know that most people nowadays engage in sexual intercourse before marriage."

Dean smirked. "I don't believe that they didn't screw around before getting married in the good old days, Cas, no matter what the Bible told them. But," he added, "we don't have to be 'in a relationship' if you don't want to. It's also a mutual thing, you know."

"I see," Castiel said. "I think it would be difficult to maintain a relationship for me."

"That's fine," Dean said, although he was surprised to notice that there was a little voice in his mind that seemed to be... disappointed? He decided to ignore it for now, just as he was ignoring all the other voices in his mind telling him he was an idiot, that everything was not fine, that he'd screwed up, that Castiel's lips looked so fucking kissable, and that his eyes were so goddamn blue. "You just go back to heaven and think things over. I get that we've just done something pretty extraordinary. I understand it."

Cas nodded and walked over to the chair he'd been sitting in previously. "Can I still wait here for a while?" he asked.

"Of course, you idiot!" Dean returned to the couch and settled down to get the nap he was going to take before Cas had turned up. Suddenly Castiel spoke again.

"I would like to... do this again some time," he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow and repressed the urge to make some crack about how everyone he had sex with always wanted more. He simply smiled in response. A thought had dawned on him.

"You remember that fanfiction you were reading in Wisconsin some time ago?" he asked.

Cas looked at him, not understanding.

"Well, we've just basically acted out the first half of it."


End file.
